Injustice After Dark (tag-team contest/part 3)

It became sunrise when I
was on my knees while searching for my hard disk--unfortunately,
whomsoever broke into my apartment has gotten what they were
looking for. My hard disk contains documents related to old
cases--from second-degree manslaughter to mob killing, from
kidnapping to molestation, and so on. It took me a while to
search my apartment, anything of major importance that could have
been stolen from a man--perhaps it was more than one?

I turned on my desktop
computer even without the CPU, yet nothing but blank. Without the
CPU there was no way I could confirm if there were other files I
must've saved by accident pertaining to old court cases. I laid
inertly on the living room's sofa, surveyed the untidy
place--papers, books, clothes, glasswares, all of them spattered
on the floor. I only had less than six hours left before heading
to court for my current case. I stared as the sun gradually arose
above the horizon--my heart was racing ever so violently.

All of a sudden, it
startled me when the phone rang. It rang and rang until I was in
total lethargy due to the ache in my shoulder. I thought about
what could have possibly hurt me if it wasn't the bullet charged
by the anonymous man I met at the park--the feeling had me
wondered for too long, and I was still uncomfortable to check the
part of my shoulder that was aching.

The phone continued to
ring, but I let my mind brainstorming of a possible someone whom
I know or a fellow colleague. It's been past fifteen minutes when
I finally arose from the sofa, headed to the kitchen counter, and
grabbed the receiver. The calling ID read "UNKNOWN
NUMBER".

"Hello," I asked. "Who's
this?" Silence came alive, but I could slightly hear the
breathing of someone on the other end of the line. The person
said nothing still. I continued. "Who isthis?"

"I was wondering when
you would answer," came a woman's voice. "What took you so long
to answer, Mr. Kenny Pollock?" Her mentioning my name put me in a
more difficult position--the problem was that I don't know who
this woman was. Could she be responsible for breaking into my
apartment, I don't know.

"May I ask who's
speaking?" I said. Silence came again between us. The woman
began.

"Can you identify me by
my voice?"

"No," I said, thinking
the stupid reason behind her asking such.

"Good! That's good!" She
said, as if expecting not a hint of her to be recognized. "I have
what belongs to you, Mr. Pollock. Your hard disk and flash drive.
I know all about you--Everything. I would like to speak to you
about a--"

"Why did you break into
my apartment? I will call the cops right n--"

"You didn't let me
finnish, Mr. Pollock," the woman interrupted me after I did so to
her. "It's rude to interrupt a lady. It's definitely something
every man ought to learn to perfect--to respect women." I
remained silent, running hastily to my bedroom for my cell phone,
just as I intended to dial 911. "If you're calling the feds I
will burn your resources, including the affidavit for your next
court case, which I believe starts at 1:00pm today."

My heart had a weird
beating rhythm after she mentioned about the court case. I
remained shocked for a while, knowing I was in a vulnerable
position, with my index finger halted from pressing the "9"
button on my cell phone.

"I know you. You're not
too stupid to risk everything for a case. You need the affidavit
from your witness to win the case--it's the only way. But of
course, there are also other important documents which are vital
to few of your oldest unresolved cases. You'd have to start from
scratch again, only if you don't do as I say." I felt the sweat
running down my cheek. I knew I needed to shower after a night of
running.

"What do you want?" I
finally asked.

"As I was about to say
earlier, I would like to make a trade."

"A trade? You mean
blackmailing me," I said.

"A trade, Mr. Pollock,
for your precious flash drive and hard disk. Think of it as a
deal. Of course, the documents regarding the case will no longer
be in existence if you agree upon the deal."

"Okay, what kind of
trade?"

"You will attend the
court case today. Then, before the judge could proceed on the
allegation that Timothy Peck is accused of a kidnapping you will
have to drop the case due to insufficient evidence."

"You want me to lie for
a possible suspect in question of a kidnapping? That's more worse
than murder. I will be stripped of my license to practice
and--"

"That isn't my problem,
Mr. Pollock. Either you allow Timothy Peck to be exempt from the
allegations or you face a harsher problem in the criminal justice
that will await you."

Silence returned, this
time longer. The woman seemed to show a little decency as to give
me all the time I need to make the right decision--her decision,
that is.

"Okay. I will do as you
ask. How do I know you will return the items?"

"I never go back on my
words, Mr. Pollock. Remember, I will know everything that's going
on in the courtroom, not to mention I have insiders." Thereafter
she hang up. I tossed the phone on the bed, my cell phone still
in hand. It was almost eight in the morning, so I took a shower
and got dressed. I remained seated on the sofa until it would be
thirty minutes before one in the afternoon, hoping an epiphany
will come to my rescue.

***

While inside the
courtroom the prosecutor went over the stuff he'd said few weeks
ago. I looked around and searched for a possible insider who's
working for the woman. I was already comfortable to accept the
fact that the guy at the park is also working for her.

Before the prosecutor
could go on about Timothy Peck being wrongly accused of
kidnapping a teenager--which I believe he's responsible for--I
stood up and said the words I knew would both betray the victim's
family and witness as well as my oath as an attorney.

"Your honor,
unfortunately due to the lack of ample evidence to further this
case, and forgive me for having mentioned about presenting an
affidavit from my witness, I believe Timothy Peck is to be free
of accusations." A huge confusion filled the courtroom, as if my
being no longer a good lawyer suddenly brought a stampede. The
ones who were most surprised were the prosecutor and my witness.
The witness looked me in the eyes before the judge could hit his
gavel after finalizing the case, with the defendant free of
accusations. I readily left the courtroom without saying a word
to anyone inside, including my witness and the victim's
family.

I walked aimlessly
around the city, pondering whether I made the right or wrong
choice. I always carry my flash drive everywhere I go, and would
save documents before the ending of a case. The original
documents are being kept inside a security vault, and were never
to be reviewed again unless need be. Such occurrence is rare in
most cases.

It was 8:24pm, according
to my watch, so I headed to a nearby bar. After more than seven
shots of tequila, I walked slowly toward my apartment, still
conscious but drunk. Before I could reach the vicinity two men
grabbed me by the arms, hauling me to some distant where I could
at least make out a black limousine parked ahead. One of them
opened the door and pushed me inside. Next to me is a lady
dressed in black robe. Darkness covered her face that I couldn't
make out her looks.

The woman finally spoke,
followed by a shock to my spine, as the voice sounded familiar;
the same voice from the anonymous woman whom I've spoken to
earlier on the phone--she's the one behind my predicament. As she
commanded the driver to turn the light on inside the vehicle, my
eyes became wide enough with surprise that I felt my lungs were
pausing from breathing. The woman--the one responsible for
everything since yesterday at the park--was none other than my
estranged older sister, Alex Pollock.